


The life of a foxy Kela

by FullFrontalMoonLight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Creature Harry, Creature Inheritance, M/M, Sassy Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullFrontalMoonLight/pseuds/FullFrontalMoonLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things go a little differently in the Chamber of Secrets and Tom Riddle gets quite the surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling.  
> Some of the dialogue is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry’s holly and phoenix wand was drawn and held protectively in front of him. His hand was damp with sweat that made gripping his wand difficult, his eye flickered swiftly back and forth surveying his surroundings and taking slow cautious steps.

The chamber roof was supported by stone pillars intricately carved with slithering snakes that almost appeared to be moving, and for all he knew they might be it was built under a magic school after all. At the front of the chamber was a statue of Salazar Slytherin the size of an adult male giant and carved from white marble turned gray from time and dust.

At the carved feet of the thousand year old figure lay the girl Ron had charged him with saving, Ginevra Weasley. He continued his slow, steady pace until he had reached her prone body; he then knelt beside her and placed his most beloved possession gently on the marble floor beside him.

“Ginny. Ginny - don’t be dead – please don’t be dead.” Harry muttered turning the red haired girl onto her back and checking for any signs of life. The youngest Weasley’s face was as cold as the marble she lay upon and as pale as the Slytherin house’s resident ghost, the Bloody Baron always seemed more solid than the other ghosts like he belonged in the world of the living more than that of the dead.

“Ginny please wake up,” he sounded more demanding than pleading and the shake he gave her could have been more gentle. To an observer this would have been a confusing sight indeed for this was the boy-who-lived being less than soft handed with a lady, and to the only observer hiding in the shadows that the torches couldn’t reach, it certainly was. “She won’t wake,” said an adolescent voice as smooth and rich as chocolate it startled Harry, making him jump and almost fall.

Regaining his balance, and his composure, he spun around quickly eyes flashing as he searched for the source of that velvety voice. Resting against one of the many pillars lining the chamber was a teenage boy. His arms were crossed and the way he leaned against the stone behind him suggested that he was completely comfortable and calm.

The boy’s hair was raven black much like his own, but instead of the crazy bird’s nest his was the teenager’s was carefully styled elegance. His eyes were a sharp crystal blue, and his features were aristocratic. He was tall and lean without looking boney and sharp angled, and he was completely recognizable even though his edges were blurred like you were looking at him through a thick fog.

“Tom – Tom Riddle?” Harry questioned his voice colored with confusion and his face pinched with befuddlement. Tom nodded thoughtfully staring intently at Harry’s face. The boy felt uncomfortable with the older teen’s eyes being so fixated on him but pushed his uneasy feelings away and asked, “Is she dead?”  “No, but only just,” Tom answered voice soft and whispery, as if his mind was in a faraway place.

“What are you Tom?” Harry questioned head tilting slightly to the side as he eyed Tom’s blurred out line. The adolescent gave the small boy a knowing smirk, “A memory. Preserved in a diary for fifty years.” Tom raised a slim index finger to a small black book that was resting against Salazar’s right foot.

Harry’s eyes widened in shock, no not a book a diary and not just any diary, but the same one he had found discarded in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He turned from the dairy, right now it wasn’t important, and back to Tom. “Will you help me Tom; I have to get Ginny out of here. There’s a basilisk, I don’t know where but it could be along at any moment. Please help me.” Harry was looking at the older boy with wide pleading eyes.

When the teen made no move to help and gave not even a twitch to prove that he had heard the twelve year old, Harry tried to lift the red-haired first year himself. Ginny being approximately the same size as Harry if not taller combined with the effects of his relative’s abuse made it near imposable for him to carry or even drag her across the marble flooring, let alone the steep entrance to the chamber.

Harry realizing this set the damsel down and reached for his holly wood wand only to find the place where he had set it was smooth marble without a disturbance in sight. With a feeling of dread Harry raised his eyes.

Tom was still gazing intently at Harry; he could practically feel the warmth radiating from his stare. The teen was twirling the twelve year olds crème colored wand between long, delicate, pianist fingers. Harry extended his arm, hand open palm up, “Will you please hand me my wand?” Harry asked politely. Tom continued to twirl the stolen wand around and around and around like a hypnotists spiral.

In a more demanding tone and with far less courtesy the dark-haired preteen said, “Tom Riddle give me my wand.” Again he received no reaction except for the slow smirk that spread across his face as if he found the thought of Harry demanding something from him amusing. Well that just pissed Harry off.

Tom Marvolo Riddle you listen here and you listen well. In case you weren’t listening or that dense head of yours was too thick to understand, there is a basilisk currently residing down here. Does that ring any bells? You know that huge snake that if you’re lucky you look at through a reflective surface and get petrified instead of the alternative were you wind up dead. S do you want to leave now in relative peace or later running for your life from the basilisk. I-”

“It won’t come until it’s called,” Tom said interrupting his rant, which rude. He was still resting against the same stone pillar, Harry’s wand in hand. What he had said and the calmness and confidence he said it with made Harry freeze, eyes wide, “Tom Riddle isn’t the name you go by in my time is it?”

For the first time since he had appeared Tom’s features shifted in surprise and his body tensed. “No it’s not,” Voldemort answered raising the stolen wand with a stunner on his lips. A bolt of crimson red shot at Harry and realizing he could not dodge quick enough the twelve year old closed his eyes in acceptance. For a moment Harry could still see the light of the torches before the stunner struck and his world was consumed in darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Harry does some things that may make you feel squiggy but if you keep reading it's all explained and you should be fine.

Harry woke slowly, eyes sluggishly blinking and lashes fluttering against pale cheeks. His face was an impassive mask, not showing any of the fear, confusion, and insecurity that kidnap victims usually did, his eyes too showed nothing but calm interest. 

His eyes scanned the room he was in critically. He was laying on a full sized bed with obviously expensive sheets and a down comforter. The sheets were a deep midnight black and the pillows and comforter emerald green. 

The room was modest in size at approximately ten by twelve feet. The flooring appeared to be real hard wood instead of the cheaper knock off that required minimal effort to maintain. The night stand beside ‘his’ bed and the wardrobe tucked into the opposite corner were made of a rich black oak and the walls that surrounded him were a creamy white. 

Harry pulled the soft blankets down his chest and to his ankles before climbing out of the bed. With previously unbare feet resting on the ground Harry examined his changed attire. Dudley’s three to four sizes too big hand-me-down t-shirt and jeans had been replaced with soft black pajama pants and an only slightly oversized t-shirt.   
Upon standing the collor of his borrowed shirt slipped down his arm exposing a delicate, unblemished shoulder. He pulled the runaway sleeve back up and suddenly noticed the conspicuous absence of the familiar weight of his repeatedly broken glasses. 

Harry’s lips stretched into a smirk as he padded confidently across the room and out the bedroom door. Harry walking into the hallway connected to the room he had just exited. The bedroom he had dubbed as ‘his’ was on the right side of the hall a few feet down was a second door and between then but on the left side of the hall was a third door.   
Harry continued his sedate walk down the hallway until it opened into a spacious living room. On the right side of the wide, open room was a doorless entryway that appeared to lead into a well-stocked kitchen. Harry was just itching to get into that fabulous kitchen and get his hands on all that expensive cooking equipment. 

He tore his gaze away from the chef’s greatest wet dream to inspect the doors on the left side of the room. Through a set of beautiful French doors Harry could see a massive library with scatterings of tables with a lamp resting on the surface of each one, and plush chairs strategically placed for comfortable reading. 

Harry strolled across the open floor plan of the living room through the entryway and into the hall on the opposite side of the room. This hallway was an almost exact reflection of the one he had just come from except that the single door mounted on the left wall was open. Harry stepped into the doorway and resting on hand on the frame peered inside.   
In the office Tom sat at his desk with a well-worn book in hand, the spine was cracked in so many places that the title could only just be made out and the page corners were worn soft from repeated rubbing. Tom held the book in his right hand with his left elbow propped on the arm of his chair; his legs were crossed, right over the left, and rested on top of his wooden desk. 

Harry watched the teenager read, so engrossed in his book that he had not realized that he was being watched, with a glimmer of affection in his eyes. He observed Tom quietly in this fashion for a few more moments before closing his eyes, letting out a deep sigh, and dropping his glamour. 

If you knew him well and had seen him numerous times you may have been able to figure out that this was Harry Potter, but strangers would never guess. His hair was still black as obsidian and his eyes still green, but where it once was an untamable mess his hair now fell in perfectly straight, silky waves. It trailed down his back stopping at his waist and held an almost blood red sheen when in the light, and his emerald eyes glowed Avada Kadavra green.

Harry’s skin was baby soft and a pale alabaster; it was smooth, unblemished, and looked as fragile as porcelain. He was very short for his age only around 4’6” and he would be lucky if he cleared 5’2” as an adult. If a random person was stopped and asked to describe Harry the first word on their tongue would most likely be beautiful.   
He opened his eyes and glanced back at Tom before striding confidently into the room. Hearing his nearing footsteps Tom glance up from his book and watched with slightly widened eyes as Harry approached. Tom slid his feet off his desk and planted them firmly on the ground at shoulder width apart. 

He closed his book, which Harry could now see was Stephen King’s “Pet Cemetery” ironic choice Tom, and placed it on the upper right corner of his desk. Harry watched Tom as he walked to and then around the escritoire. They stared intently at each other for a few time stopping moments, Harry with a calm demeanor and Tom tensed waiting for the expected angry outburst and corresponding violence. 

Harry suddenly and unexpectedly climbed onto Tom’s lap straddling his legs and sitting with his rear pressed to the teen’s thighs. While settling himself Harry rolled his should and upper back just enough that that the arm of his shirt slipped down to reveal his collar bone and shoulder, in what appeared to be an accident, before glancing up at Tom through long, thick eyelashes. 

He licked his lips leaving his mouth slightly parted and his lips wet and shiny. In all he knew that he made a very enticing image. Harry placed his arms around Tom’s neck and dug his fingers into soft black hair. He pushed himself up and closer to Tom’s face with a seductive arch of his back and with lips brushing the teen’s ear whispered in an innocent, questioning voice, “Tom where are we?” 

“About one hundred and seventy-three miles from your favorite school,” He answered before deciding to ask one of the two questions at the forefront of his brilliant mind. “That is not how you appeared when I brought you here.” Well I guess that was actually more a demand slash statement than question. “That was just a glamour,” Harry answered like it should be obvious and cuddled his head against Tom’s chest. 

“And the reason you are currently residing in my lap?” The teen asked. Hey a real question Harry absently wondered if he should be proud. “Hmm, you’re comfy and very handsome.” It again was said as if the answer was plain and simple. 

“And you’re twelve,” Tom replied, exasperated. “Almost thirteen,” Harry shot back reflexively, “And besides my kind begin searching for a suitable mate just after their eleventh birthday.” If Tom had been born a dog his triangular ears would have perked up in interest, “Your kind? How about you tell me about your kind Harry.” 

Harry lifted his head, looked Tom in the eyes and gave him a sultry smile, “And what do I get if I do?” Tom slid his hands up Harry’s thighs and stopped just below his waist. The teen then gripped the younger boys hips tightly enough that Harry knew he would have bruises the shape of Tom’s hands later before leaning in close and whispering, “I won’t torture and kill your friends.” 

Harry shivered slightly and then in return murmured directly into his ear, “I don’t care.” Harry licked the shell of Tom’s ear and leaned back so that he could see the surprise spread across Tom’s face before continuing, “How about you tell me about you. About your childhood and what that diary really was, and if you tell me the truth then, and only then will I tell you what I am.” 

With a pensive expression the slytherin pondered on whether or not he would lose anything with this deal. He would have to tell Harry about his childhood and while he didn’t like people knowing, If Tom was the one to tell him he may be able to get Harry to feel sympathy for him and so make it easier to manipulate him into doing what he wanted or to coral the boy to his side of the war. Plus he would gain an advantage over Dumbledore by knowing what the boy was when the old man obviously didn’t. “Fine,” Tom said coolly, “I accept this arrangement.”


End file.
